Highlights of the week: Spun out on the highway. Played hookey. Endured my second formal observation. Attended another essentially useless Yearbook meeting. All capped off by my principal telling me that he’s caught some heat from parents for my grades not being kept up-to-date. That was Friday afternoon, after school. It sent me home in a less-than-favorable state of mind.

There are times I just want to cry, though I haven’t yet.

They were forecasting a snowstorm starting Tuesday afternoon and persisting through Wednesday, so Tuesday afternoon I decided I’d take Wednesday off. I had to juggle a bit and make some lesson concessions (now that’s a rhyme I’ll hold on to) because I believe that if you know you’re going to have a substitute, you keep the plans as straightforward as possible and don’t ever make them have to actually teach.

By the time I got home Tuesday evening, I knew I had made the right decision. That’s because it took me almost two hours to get home. Optimally, it’s a 35-minute commute. But that afternoon there was a plethora of accidents– a luminous cacophany, if you will, of red, blue, yellow, and other-hued lights abounding. Where I was– near Golden and the foothills– the snow had begun before noon and by the time I got out of there, circa 6:30 (thanks to my OCD about preparing for a sub day) the roads were sloppier than a pigpen in a thunderstorm. It took over 12 minutes just to traverse the on-ramp from I-70 onto C-470. Soon enough, though, I was proceeding, slowly but surely.

Maybe a quarter-mile before the Santa Fe exit (I realize this means nothing to non-Denverites, but indulge me my personal points of reference), I had to brake and… the car is spinning. It completes a near-180 degree arc from the left lane across the right, and stops on the shoulder, facing perpendicular to the road. Two things are running through my mind:

1) Maintain control of the vehicle as best as you can.

2) Squeeze your knuckles white with your deathgrip on the steering wheel as you brace for impact.

Fortunately, the latter never came. Traffic behind me was proceeding slowly enough that they were able to stop, without also going into a triple-lutz. The driver immediately behind in the right lane graciously gave me time to get back on the road. Then, of course, I wouldn’t go above five miles per hour. I took the exit, though it proved not to be the wisest move. The surface streets were even slicker, and I had to endure more minor fishtailing and sliding through a red light before I made it home (but only after I stopped at Quizno’s, per my wife’s request).

By the time I stumbled in the door, I was glad to know that I already had a sub scheduled for the next day. After downing my damn-my-back-hurts-gee-could-it-be-all-the-stress medication cocktail (a trifecta of muscle relaxant, anti-inflammatory, and Vicodin) and eating my sub (not the one covering for me, mind you), I passed into blissful slumber and got to “sleep in” until roughly 6:30 (hey, our kids still had to go to school)– still an hour later than usual.

Maria was also home that day and although we didn’t hang out too much together, I still didn’t accomplish too much.

Thursday was a long day. The kids were squirrely, as the snow will make them. Plus it’s nearing the end of the term, and they’re smelling holiday break. As am I! Friday was equally long but it was, at least, Friday. Two two-day weeks beat one five-day week anytime. Morning was OK but afternoon classes started to wear on my patience. Sixth period was more awful than usual. I can stand misbehavior, so long as it’s manageable, but when they just stare at you when you ask them a question that’s right on the board in front of where you’re standing– that’s frustrating. Because then you feel they’re not learning and if so, you’ve failed.

I got to skip out on Access (our version of homeroom/study hall, except it comes at the end of the day) to attend a yearbook meeting. Now, I’m the teacher sponsor of the yearbook, but I’m not the one in charge. See, this is a parent-driven middle school and everything’s a PTA committee, including yearbook. So the parent of one of my students is running the show, which is frankly fine with me. I’m still going to look into the extra sponsor pay, though. The meetings, whether with parents or students, never seem productive to me. Maybe I’ve already sat through too many pointless meetings– a terrifying thought considering how many are to come.

Then my principal finds me– after school, at this point– and tells me that he’s catching heat from some parents for my grades not being up-to-date. I was politely but firmly told that I need to– get my ass in gear, to sum it up. Don’t get me wrong; I truly respect my principal; he’s a great guy and I’m forever indebted to him for taking a chance on an unproven new teacher, seeing enough in me to step into a tough (academic) school and teach two different subjects. But, as I said before, everything and everyone in this school cowtows to the parents, for better or for worse. Although it’s technically an “options” and not a charter school, parents had a significant hand in founding it five years ago.

So the weekend passes and I grade, grade stories, which is not cut-and-dry. Problem is, I’ve had them four weeks now. When you get behind the situation just snowballs, because there’s always more work coming in and you have to prioritize, decide if you can delay the new stuff until you’re done with the old, which is not always possible.

Merely a decade ago there was no such thing as an online gradebook parents could monitor. As both a parent and teacher now, I feel it’s a blessing and a curse. It makes it quite difficult for kids to hide their progress, or lack thereof. Then again, it creates an environment wherein some parents expect to see an assignment handed in one day and a grade entered the next. Or to see the full sequence of assignments coming due in the next several weeks. I’m sorry, but in your first year it’s impossible to be that forward-minded and organized.

In any case, I did get some grading accomplished and entered some more that had just been on paper. The gradebook looks better, anyhow. I marched in this morning (Monday) late– only about 15 minutes before 1st period starts– and in a pensive mood. It wasn’t a bad day, though, even if it was capped off by– yes!– a meeting.

Enough whining for now; I hope your week finds you well!